


there are no tags on this.

by sadboyhalo



Category: no - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadboyhalo/pseuds/sadboyhalo
Summary: Letting the heat fester within your rotting brain, what else is there to do other than import yourself into a new reality, where everything is within perfection? A plethora of opportunities to discard of the life you once knew, for the satisfaction of meeting the societal standard we all know and resent.





	there are no tags on this.

Opening your mind to infinite possibility, the never ending cycle of iridescent, half-lie truths. What is to make you happy if nothing in this world has yet to do so? Living in your muck of a mind peels open the wound in the middle of your stomach that rips almost all the way through your organs. A slight jolt to the left or right lets your guts pour relentlessly onto the grass knoll. Is your mind so sensitive that a small walk to the park breaks your mind into shards of glass? How could one's feeble workspace in the mind be so cluttered by the looming wave of irreparable melancholia?   
A heart and soul-wrenching synth of depression and undistinguished... hopelessness?  
This "story" is a simple, yet complex, jumble of words that contrast yet relate in order to simulate a feeling of confusion mixed with mind boggling sadness/depression. It's a trap to make you think that you are the problem. I just gaslighted you with a mix of 112 words. How fragile and weak is your mind? To be confused by a barely 16 year old girls mix of letters? There it is, once again. Making you seem crazy for feeling how you feel. Yet, I bet you relate to the paragraph above, talking about your "feeble workspace" that you call your mind. I understand, I feel the exact same way. The feeling of having nothing and everything consume your consciousness whole. It hurts. Thinking of blankness and the purpose of existence at the same moment in time.  
I'm sorry that you have felt this way, presumably for a while. After having a sad excuse of a brain for a while, you start to question yourself just like I questioned myself. I had been feeling empty inside since the fifth grade, almost 6 years now. I am in the tenth grade. Is that not embarrassing? To be so incapable of solving your problems that you resort to writing a book that no one will ever see nor care about? Turning the volume up on your headset listening to some melancholic yet homicidal music (I'm getting at songs by Mother Mother and such... you know exactly what I'm talking about. Some may also say My Chemical Romance has some good depressed murderer songs, specifically "I Never Told You What I Do For A Living". There are plenty of other MCR songs that radiate that depressed murderer vibe. Whatever. Can not believe you just read that).  
I'm not sure about you, but I often find myself attempting an escape from reality. Whether that's a hyperfixation or suicidal thoughts, I enjoy the escapism. I enjoy not caring about my problems. I mean, just recently, I began not caring about my schoolwork. I argue with my mom, saying that life is pointless and that school is something that should not be important. Somewhere, in my mind, I know I'm being crazy. But I also just don't care, because who cares about what society makes of you? What is the point? I just do not see it, frankly.  
I tried to kill myself the other day. Took some Tylenol, sadly not enough to where it would be lethal. "Lucky" I don't have any liver problems. Yet. Whatever, I guess.  
I got a new keyboard. I'm loving it. I guess this is just a diary of my time here until I'm dead. Maybe this will be published. Hey everyone. Maybe you're at my school and reading this. Well, If you are, I hate all of you. Maybe not all of you. Guess I'm just angry at those who constantly bullied me and drove me to my irreverent death. Whatever. Use this as your "suicide prevention". It isn't going to change anything. If you are thinking about killing yourself, reading my attempt at gaslighting you, you'd probably want to die even more. Listen, I'm not telling you to kill yourself. Sure. Suicide prevention is all the rage today. But the amount of times I've heard that suicide isn't the answer just made me angry. I don't care. People who refused to change drove me to death. Maybe the suicide prevention you educators are looking for is actually caring about how your students are doing. Being able to read their sighs and their "I'm good!". I think that, a better support system would be amazing. Actually gaining trust with your students. I guess I'm just quite stubborn. I refused therapy and meds because I felt like I'd have no purpose if I was happy. I'd lose my personality. Man. What is wrong with me? Okay. After writing this, I realized that I'm the problem. Sorry for saying I hate everyone at my school. I don't. I mean you guys probably hate me for making you sit in your class reading my depressing note that you'll forget about the next day. Whoops.   
Ok. That's it for today. Maybe we'll talk later.


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